


Day 5

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kinktober, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Post-Canon, Sadism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 13:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16198748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: It's not that Isaac deserves pain, it's that he craves it. Derek is there to oblige.





	Day 5

It’s not that Isaac thinks he deserves this – he doesn’t, he knows he’s above this, knows he’s better than the way he’s been treated. But he _wants_ this. Craves the pain, the trickle of blood, that feeling that he once felt underneath his father’s cruel fists and sharp belt. He’s fully aware of how fucked up it is but he’s an adult now – his father is long buried – and he can have this if he wants it.

He’s on his bare knees, kneeling on the hard floor of Derek’s loft. Cold air washes over his skin – usually he’d complain about the terrible insulation but he doesn’t really care right now. Naked and shivering but it’s not really that cold that’s getting to him. It’s the _anticipation_. The footsteps that fill his ears as Derek circles him like a bird of prey – yet he doesn’t strike, not yet.

“What’s your safeword?” Derek asks.

This is part of their routine. Since Isaac came back from France to find his friends scattered across the country, fighting a war or attending college. Since all he found was Derek alone in his loft, staring blankly out the window. Since he said, _“you smell like old blood.”_

 He doesn’t understand why the older wolf agreed to this because they don’t love each other; they don’t go on moonlit walks or have dinners at expensive Italian restaurants. It’s been sex and pain and what they _need_ that night. But Isaac doesn’t complain because this is better than randos he finds in clubs or online that don’t understand why he can take so much, why he heals so fast. So he takes a deep breath and answers.

“Graveyard.”

“Good.” It’s gruff. Derek’s actually capable of smiling now but kinky sex seems to bring back the closed off, dangerously quiet man that Isaac first met. The one that pulled him out of an empty grave, told him he _knew_ , and that he could save him. Back then, it was a bite. Now, it’s a whip.

And the whip is in Derek’s hand. He’s the one in control of the strike though Isaac is the one with the power to end it in a second. He has no desire to do that though, never had to with the older wolf. He knows, maybe through chemo-signals or just past experience, but that’s all that matters. Isaac waits and knows he’s in good hands.

_Whack_.

It’s similar to a cat o’ nine tails whip – made specifically for kink but more painful than the usual flogger. It works better for Isaac though. His skin is too tough, his healing too good. Whoever thought there’d come a day when he’d wish he was as fragile as he once was. Where he’d bleed instead of heal seconds after the wound is made. There’s no going back on that though so now he’s just needs it rougher.

“Again.”

Derek’s tongue clicks. “Quiet.”

But despite the one-word scolding, Derek does it again – once, twice, thrice in quick succession. Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, only managing to escape once the whip is resting again. He waits until the wounds heal again to start another onslaught, the crack of the whip echoing through mostly empty space of the loft.

Derek starts a pattern, adding one more strike to each time then waiting for Isaac to heal and catch his breath. It’s _perfect_. The adrenaline pounds in his ears, his skin flushing a deep scarlet. Heat wraps itself around him, chasing off the chill. He balls his hands into fists against his thighs, resisting the building urge to touch himself. Want and need mix and mingle – he needs pain, he wants pleasure, except the crack of the whip confuses his head and those two words begin to meld together.

Eventually, Isaac gives in. He wraps his hand around his cock and places the other on the ground in front of him, bracing himself as he stripes his cock. Sweat is _not_ lube under any circumstances but he really doesn’t mind a little chafing. Pleasant and pleasure don’t go hand-in-hand the same way pain and pleasure do. He doesn’t ask permission from Derek and the older wolf doesn’t tell him to stop. His pattern breaks but the whip still strikes Isaac’s back and that’s all he cares as he chases that thread of _something more_.

It tingles under his skin and curls up tight in his belly, twisting and knotting and going straight to his head as he gets closer and closer to nirvana. When he reaches it, when he _comes_ , it’s like a white stars exploding behind his eyes. His release is sticky in his hand and he gasps, hunched over as his orgasm surges and recedes like a tsunami. Derek stops – stops striking, stops circling.

Isaac freezes when he feels Derek’s hand – large and warm – on his back but he relaxes a second later. A “thanks” slips out of his lips; it feels awkward because it _is_ but Derek rubs circles into his back and it doesn’t matter.

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! You can find me on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/) as well.


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